


Merry Christmas, Cowboy

by nerdytardis



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 09:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdytardis/pseuds/nerdytardis
Summary: Illya tries to force Napoleon into the Christmas spirit.
In other words, some really cute fluff for the holiday season.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arose7575](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arose7575/gifts).



> My (slightly late, sorry) Christmas present for my amazing friend Ally! Merry Christmas dude, ily!!

“What is that?”

“A Christmas tree.” 

“And why is it in my apartment?”

Illya huffed, looking sideways at Napoleon across the living room.  “Because it is Christmas.” 

Raising an eyebrow at the tree, a tall, skinny thing, Napoleon watched as the snow melted off and made a puddle on his polished, hard-wood floor.  “It’s going to get needles everywhere.”

 “That is not the point Cowboy,” Illya rolled his eyes and started pulling off his snow-dusted coat, “It is festive.” 

“What if I don’t want to be festive?” Napoleon said, taking Illya’s coat and hanging in on the hook by the door. 

“Too bad.” 

Napoleon watched, his arms crossed across his chest, as Illya finished taking off his gloves and boots.  “So, you’re trying to force me into the holiday spirit?” 

Looking up at him, Illya smirked slightly.  “ _Da_.” 

“Of course.”  Napoleon shook his head, “Did Gaby put you up to this?”

“I-” Illya paused, biting his lip and trying to cover his slip-up, “She does not want you to be sad on Christmas.” 

Napoleon’s eyebrows drew together.  “Why would she think that?”

After stammering for a moment, Illya finally managed to put some words together.  “You are alone in this big apartment, even though it is a time of year when sentimental Americans like you want to be with family.”  Illya shrugged, looking away from Napoleon and back towards the tree.  “I thought it would make you feel better.” 

Heat began rising to Illya’s cheeks, as he realized he has slipped again.  He began playing with the corner of his shirt.  “If it is too much, I will take it away.” 

“No,” Napoleon stepped forward, taking stock of the tree again, “I think it’s starting to grow on me.”  He glanced back towards Illya, “Even if it doesn’t match the rest of the décor.” 

Illya couldn’t help but smile at that, silently reveling in the accompanying grin it brought to Napoleon’s lips. 

“Do you have anything to decorate it with?” Napoleon asked, looking around the room, already figuring out how to make it fashionably fit the space. 

“No,” Illya said, “I was more focused on trying to find a tree in New York with only a week till Christmas.”  

Nodding and mostly ignoring Illya, Napoleon said, “Well it’s not a Christmas tree without decorations.” 

“Whatever you say Cowboy.” Illya said, watching Napoleon turn it a little and try to get it at just the right angle.  He loved watching Napoleon work.  Not matter what he was trying to figure out, he always put all his energy into it, without ever losing his natural grace. 

Looking away, Illya chastised himself.  He shouldn’t stare; it was not his place. 

“We have to go shopping for ornaments and things then.” Napoleon said, already walking past Illya and reaching for his coat. 

“ _We_?”

Napoleon gave him a look, “You’re the one forcing me into the spirit.  If you want me to be festive, then I need classy ornaments and tinsel.” 

Illya shook his head, but dutifully put his coat back on anyway.  “I knew it would not be so easy.  It never is with you.” 

Grinning, Napoleon said, “It’s all part of my charm.” 

No matter how much he wanted to, Illya found he couldn’t form a response to that. 

Instead, he huffed and grabbed his wool hat and tried to hand it to Napoleon, who eyed it questioningly. 

“It is cold out,” Illya said, “And I know that you have no sensibly hats.” 

“Don’t you need it?”  Napoleon’s stare flitted between the maroon patterned hat and Illya.

“I am Russian, I will be fine.”  Illya stepped forward, ignoring Napoleon’s attempt to move away from him, and pulled the hat down over his ears. 

“This is going to ruin my hair.”  Napoleon grumbled. 

Illya smirked down at him, “You will thank me later.”  Illya’s smile faltered, when he realized how close they were now standing.  He was a mere few inches from Napoleon’s adorably pouting face. 

It would be so easy for Illya to lean forward and-

“Fine Peril, I will wear the hat, but only on one condition.” 

Blinking, Illya pulled himself back to the moment at hand, mentally kicking himself.  He had been trying to get those thoughts under control for weeks, with no help from Napoleon, who only seemed to be getting more comfortable around him. 

“What is the condition?”  Illya asked, trying to sound bored in order to cover up the rapid beating of his heart.

“You have to have dinner with me tonight.”

Illya blinked at him, frozen.  “What- Why?”

Napoleon shrugged.  “Because it would be nice, and I’m getting tired of cooking for one.”  He finally turned away and pulled open his door to go, with Illya following quickly behind him. 

They went downtown, which was bustling with shoppers and tourists, all undeterred by the biting chill.  Napoleon pulled Illya into every store, looking over the choices of decorations and lights with bright, excited eyes. 

Even as Illya’s feet grew tired and the carols began to drive him mad, he still followed Napoleon dutifully, even carrying his bags for him. 

Illya even mumbled “Merry Christmas” to another sales-woman that Napoleon had instantly befriended.  He was like a star.  Every time he stepped into a room, all the attention went to him. 

He was blinding in his brightness, but Illya couldn’t stop looking. 

Nearly toppling a display of Christmas sweaters, Illya cursed under his breath.  “Do you really need more?”  Illya finally asked, watching Napoleon glance over another case of fancy looking stars.  “I though you did not want to celebrate.” 

“That was before you showed up and put the idea in my head,” Napoleon said, looking towards him, “Now, I’m starting to enjoy myself.” 

Illya huffed, and held up the handful of bags he was carrying.  “I can see that.”

Something softened in Napoleon’s gaze, melting Illya’s heart in the process.  “Okay Peril,” he said, “I guess we can call it a day.” 

They began to make the trek back to Napoleon’s uptown apartment, when it began lightly snowing again.  Illya paused, looking up towards the sky and smiling.  The snow always looked beautiful as it fell in the city, light reflecting off the flakes as they tumbled to the sidewalk.  

When he pulled his eyes away from the sky, he caught Napoleon watching him with that soft look again.   Illya met his gaze.  They stared at each other for a moment, tension cracking across the limited space between them until the moment was broken by someone yelling at a taxi across the street. 

Napoleon ducked away from Illya’s gaze, starting down the street without a word. 

Illya tried to push the moment to the back of his mind, along with all the others.  It was probably just his hopes getting away from him, but it seemed that whatever there was between him and Napoleon was growing stronger.  He never said anything; he was too afraid that he was imaging things, letting his hopes get the best of him.  But it was getting harder to ignore every day, just as his pesky feelings kept growing stronger. 

They walked in silence for a few blocks.  The quiet ate away at Illya for a bit, until he reminded himself to breath.  It became companionable, just like they had all those missions ago on the terrace above Rome. 

As they walked, some kids ran by, laughing at each other as they slipped around in the fresh snow.  There were skates in their hands, which Napoleon looked at with interest. 

“I can’t remember the last time I went skating.”  He said wistfully, watching the kids run down the street.

Illya watched him for a moment, loving the way his face softened at the memory. 

“We could go.” He said before he could stop himself. 

“Really?”

Illya simply nodded, it was worth it just to see Napoleon’s face light up. 

Grabbing Illya’s hand, Napoleon dragged him after the kids. 

They followed them all the way to the skating spot.  It was a small pond in the park, hidden away from the main walking paths.  Napoleon grinned at the sight of it, and went right up to the kids to ask for some skates to borrow. 

The kids smiled, handing over the skates in return for a dollar.  They ran off to play in the snow, leaving Illya and Napoleon to sit down on the snowy grass and put on the skates.  Leaving their bags and shoes on a nearby rock, Illya carefully stepped onto the ice. 

Napoleon followed him, laughing as he tried to get his balance.  “What would Gaby say if she saw this?” He said, wobbling forward. 

“She would laugh at us, then show us the best skating trick either of us had seen.”  Illya said, skating forward a little. 

“You’re right.” Napoleon grinned, skating in a small circle.  “I used to be so good at this.” He said, skating slowly back towards Illya, who was carefully stepping further out on the pond. 

“My brother-” Napoleon started to say, but stopped himself, his smile fading.  Illya quickly looked over at him.  Napoleon never talked about his family, except maybe when he was really drunk.  And even then, he would only ever complain about his parents and their high-society friends. 

“I know Cowboy.” Illya said quietly, skating around a little to look like he was doing something instead of staring.

Napoleon just sighed a little in response.  They skated like that, a calm silence falling over them as the snow lightly dusted everything with white.  It was nice, nicer than anything either of them had done for a while. 

Skating backwards a little, just to show off, Napoleon laughed at the look on Illya’s face, before he began to slip.  He reached out wildly to catch himself and ended up latching onto Illya’s coat. 

They were both off-balance now, and fell into each other.  Illya managed to save them from falling over, but he had to wrap his arms around Napoleon to do it. 

They were now flush against each other, Napoleon’s breath warm against Illya’s face.  Time slowed down. 

He could see the snowflakes stuck to Napoleon’s eyelashes and lips, the bits of hair that had curled out from under his hat.  It was beautiful. 

“Illya-” Napoleon said softly, the cloud of his breath billowing between them, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Illya blinked at him. 

Napoleon looked away from a moment, then met Illya’s gaze again, this time with a new steal in his gaze.  “For reminding me what Christmas is about.” 

Illya furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“I used to love it,” Napoleon said, his words barely a whisper, yet clear as a bell across the few inches between them, “But during the war-”Napoleon words trembling a little, even as his gaze never wavered, “I lied on my papers, you know, I was barely fifteen when I went overseas.”

Illya brought his arms tighter around Napoleon, supporting him. 

“When you have to watch your friends die next to you, you forget that things like holiday and happiness even exist.” Napoleon said, his eyes losing their focus at whatever terrible memory the words evoked. 

Illya swallowed, unsure about what he wanted to say next.  “When my father died,” he said, watching Napoleon’s eyes widen in surprise at the mention, “I never thought I would be happy again.  But-”

Napoleon’s nose bumped against his a little and they slid on the ice some more. 

Illya froze, the contact breaking through his trance and making him suddenly hyper-aware of what was happening. 

“Illya,” Napoleon said, his voice barely a whisper, “Kiss me.”

The distance between them was gone in an instant.  Illya pressed his lips against Napoleon’s, a careful, delicate pressure.  It was a spark, igniting something in Illya and he pulled Napoleon closer to him.   

Bringing his hands up to Illya’s face, Napoleon deepened the kiss.  Their breaths mingled, the heat between them making the cold a faded memory. 

His heart already beating a wild rhythm in his chest, and his focus so totally encompassed by Napoleon, Illya was totally unprepared for his feet to slip out from under him.  In one terrifying moment they both crashed to ice in a heap. 

“Are you okay?” Illya asked anxiously, reaching for Napoleon and checking that nothing was broken. 

Groaning a little, Napoleon took Illya’s hand.  “I’m fine, but I don’t think I want to ice-skate anymore.  I really, really want to continue this with some solid ground beneath my feet.”  He grinned and moved into Illya’s space again. 

“Me too.”  Illya said, a soft smile spreading across his face at the idea, “Let’s go.” 

\-- -- --

The Christmas lights spread all over Napoleon’s apartment glittered, as Illya tried to set the star on the top of the tree.  He finally managed it, smiling as Napoleon applauded behind him. 

“I love it.”

“In Russia, we always put a red star on top of the New Year’s tree.”  He said, stepping back to admire his handiwork.  Napoleon stepped up next to him, wrapping an arm around his back and leaning into his side. 

“It’s perfect, Peril.” He said, looking up at Illya with a smirk.  Illya rolled his eyes and leaned down for another kiss. 

When they finally parted, Napoleon gave him a thoughtful look.  “Does this mean I have to get you a present now?”

“I think so.” 

“Darn.” Napoleon smiled into Illya’s mouth, “Couldn’t this just count as a present?”

Illya simply mumbled a reply, too caught up in Napoleon’s kiss to really say anything. 

They parted reluctantly as the teapot in the kitchen started to boil. 

“I should probably get that.” Napoleon said, biting his lip. 

“Probably.” 

“Hey Illya,” Napoleon said, wrapping his arms around Illya’s neck, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Cowboy.”

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: the whole thing about red stars on top of the new year's tree was actually a real thing in the 60s soviet union
> 
> anyway, happy holidays and thanks for reading!


End file.
